


The Devil's Girl

by acs



Series: The Harbinger's Tale [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Devil Wears Prada (2006), Facts of Life
Genre: Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acs/pseuds/acs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone was killing Miranda Priestly's former assistants. Until they attacked the wrong one. That was just their first mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER:**
> 
> This is a derivative work. All BtVS characters belong to or were created by Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy. Anything from The Devil Wears Prada and The Facts of Life belongs to multiple others.The plot and words gluing this story together, on the other hand is my idea.
> 
>  **Spoilers**
> 
> BtVS - 1st 7 seasons. Not Comic book Season 8 compliant. FoL- all. DWP - All.
> 
>  **Notes:**
> 
> It's a crossover - so this is all seriously AU. Differences with canon will be explained as the story/series. progresses. And it is headed towards a Mirandy but might not get there until the last sentence in the last paragraph in the last chapter.

A sharp, shooting pain traveled from the center of her back and up her neck before settling just behind her eyes. Gasping desperately, Andy struggled to pull some air into her lungs. It was like trying to breath through a mouthful of soggy, burnt socks in a sauna, she thought incoherently. And with at least one broken rib, she suspected, feeling a sharp pain in her side as she fought to expand her lungs.

"God..." Andy moaned into the ground, her hands pressing against some kind of gritty surface. Taking another painful breath, she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, her left arm protesting as she did so. "Sitting works," she mumbled, "must not be anything too broken." Squinting in the dim light, all she could see was herself through the dense fog.

Her left wrist throbbing, Andy gingerly ran her right hand over the rest of her body, checking for any damage. She moved slowly, avoiding any sudden movement. She winced as she touched sensitive spots. One on her left ankle, another on her right thigh, and several around her ribs. Her left shoulder ached as it had the last time she'd dislocated it. But other than the pain, there was no evidence that she'd been injured. And no way to know what was causing the pain. No blood, bruises, cuts, or even raw skin.

The pain in her head was increasing, making it hard to concentrate but Andy was sure this wasn't normal. There should have been something. Even if her current job with the Council kept her in an office or in meetings on an almost constant basis, she was a slayer. She knew that there should have been some physical evidence of the pain she was feeling. Even the slayer boot camp she'd gone through after her first year of law school, not exactly a pain free experience, had left her with more bruises.

"Where am I?" she asked just to break the silence, not expecting an answer. "Is there anyone here?" she said in a louder voice. Her voice disappeared, absorbed into the fog without so much as an echo.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she tried to think back to what might have brought her to this place. She could clearly remember getting back from that meeting with the Saudi and Egyptian ambassadors. They hadn't solved or even covered all of the unique challenges involved in trying to set up slayer coverage for that part of the world but it'd still been a productive first meeting.

After leaving that meeting she'd spent a frustrating hour mediating another tense meeting between one of the local slayers and her over protective parents. Things were foggy after that. She vaguely remembered stopping at her favorite street cart on the way back to her office but that's where her memories stopped. And no rubbing of her aching head or other attempts to clear her mind did anything to fill in the gap between then and now.

Deciding she couldn't sit there forever, Andy braced herself against the impending pain and slowly stood up. By the time she was fully erect, all of the earlier pain had been joined by a sharp prickly feeling like every nerve in her body was suddenly waking up. Taking slow, deep breaths, she concentrated on the simple act of standing.

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" she tried again an interminable time later, in a shaky voice that was just below shouting. There was no answer but after another eternity the fog started to lift, revealing her surroundings.

Andy squinted as she looked around. Stretching out as far as she could see was a treeless, rock covered plain. Turning in a circle, the constant pain making her move slowly, she saw nothing but sand and rocks.

"Not New York," she said to herself, "unless the effects of global warming are a lot faster than Al Gore claimed. And wasn't the ocean supposed to drown the city, not dry up?"

"That wasn't there earlier," she muttered, after completing her turn, when a small hill appeared off in the distance.

It's not gonna hurt; it's not gonna hurt, she thought, but didn't vocalized around gritted teeth, and cautiously took a step forward towards the hill. And then another, and another until she was moving forward, though at less than half her normal walking speed, the only sound her bare feet gripping at the gritty surface.

Time didn't seem measurable wherever this was. The light never seemed to change, the sun hidden by clouds, and the temperature was like a warm August evening in the city. Which was a good thing she realized, noticing for the first time that all she had on were scraps of leather sewn together in a shape that covered her only slightly better than her favorite bikini.

"What do they say about slayers and sunburn?" Andy asked herself, trying to remember what she knew about that aspect of slayer physiology. She always used sunscreen herself and usually skipped the 'Beauty Care and the Single Slayer' lectures sponsored by her office as unnecessary after working at 'Runway'.

It could have been an hour or many hours before she reached the base of the hill. Up close it was much larger than she'd thought. Walking slowly around it, she discovered steps cut into the hill. Can I climb it, she wondered. The pain had receded to a dull roar as her body became used to it and the prickly feeling was almost gone. "It isn't far," she said, her voice loud in the permanent silence.

She wasn't completely wrong, she thought as she reached the top at a crawl. A hundred steps wasn't very far for a healthy slayer. She, on the other hand, had a strong desire to crawl into the nearest hole and not come out until next summer.

Using the last of her energy, Andy perched on the top step and looked out across the desert at another hill far off in the distance. Squinting, she could see movement at its top. A constant stream of figures moved past someone sitting in a huge chair under an awning. She couldn't make out distinct features but she had the vague impression of Cleopatra holding audience. Or maybe Queen Elizabeth passing sentence.

She was too tired to move, she thought, closing her eyes for a minute. She just needed a break, then she would investigate.


	2. Welcome to New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Possible Trigger Warning:**
> 
> Although this chapter contains no actual depictions of violence, Andy was seriously injured and this and future chapters will deal with the results.

Riding up to the Intensive Care Unit, the metal wall cool against her back, Buffy ignored the others as they talked quietly in the cramped elevator. She'd been bracing herself for this part of their trip since arriving in the city several hours earlier.

Short of a near fatal injury or handcuffs, there were very few things that could get her into a hospital to visit one of her slayers. It wasn't that she was cold hearted or cruel. The slayers on her teams knew of her severe hospital phobia and tended to panic if she did manage to visit them in the hospital before they could be released .

Normally, if a slayer was injured seriously enough, and Buffy wasn't already on the scene, by the time she could arrive at the hospital enough strings would have been pulled and the injured slayer would have already been transfered to the closest Council infirmary. So she didn't make many hospital appearances anyway.

But things weren't even close to normal right now. The person well versed in the bureaucratic highways and byways of the modern healthcare system, the person who normally spearheaded efforts to retrieve slayers from hospitals, prisons, embassies, and consulates for the Council was the slayer in question. With her injured so badly that the Council's own specialists were unwilling to predict when she would wake, if ever, it was Buffy's responsibility as head slayer to take care of things.

It had taken several days of negotiation to get things taken care of to everyone's satisfaction but Buffy had come to observe her transport from the hospital without a second thought. Doc's transport teams were very good at their jobs and they would get her to the Council infirmary in one piece. Once she was on her way Buffy planned to lead the team that would hunt down and deal with her attacker.

Leaning against the back of the elevator, Buffy kept her thoughts to herself. She couldn't tell what every slayer was thinking but whatever part of her that was hooked into the slayer line could sense turmoil just below the surface.

Lawyers were a dime a dozen in a large city like New York. But slayers like Andy Sachs, J.D. were exceedingly rare. Not only did she possess an understanding of the law second to none but she often achieved the seemingly impossible when a slayer was in a difficult situation.

As far as any of the slayers on Buffy's roving teams were concerned, Andy ranked only slightly below the Council Weapons Master in importance. Not quite in the same pantheon as the original Scoobies but vital to the smooth operation of the slayer support system. And if someone didn't redirect their growing anger at the attack in a productive direction, Buffy knew it was a bomb just waiting to go off. Her presence would calm things down for a little while but not forever.

Buffy stepped out of the elevator, followed by Jessica, Vi's partner and the two junior slayers from the Council's City office. Vi, the Doc and her team, and the attending physician would be up as soon as they'd finished the paperwork. Taking in the layout of the ICU, Buffy pointed Wendy, the younger of the two juniors, towards the small waiting area. "Leah has Andy's room," she said in a low voice only the other slayers could hear, nodding at the other junior slayer, a tall blonde. "You'll swap with her every hour. Any questions?"

"No Ma'am," Wendy murmured, pulling back her ebony hair into a ponytail before she walked over to the waiting area, taking a seat that gave her a good view of the elevators and reception area in the ICU.

Buffy nodded at the other two. "Shall we?" she murmured and headed towards the nurses station.

"Yes, Boss," Jessica said, followed by Leah.

"Andrea Sachs," Buffy said to the nurse behind the desk.

"Visiting hours are over," the nurse said, frowning at them.

"Yes," Buffy agreed. "We're here to see Andrea Sachs."

"You'll have to come back later," the nurse told them, obviously puzzled that they were still standing there.

"No. We're here to see her now," Buffy said.

The nurse frowned at her, her hand on her phone. Buffy suspected she was seconds away from calling hospital security.

"Call your manager," Buffy told her, keeping up her poker face. The Nursing Supervisor for the ICU had been in the meeting to hammer out details of Andy's move. "We can wait."

The nurse picked up her phone and spoke into it for a minute. A surprised look on her face, she put down the phone and looked up at Buffy. "She's in room 42," she said, pointing down a hallway.

"Thanks," Buffy said, before heading there .

"Leah has it now," she told Alex, the silver haired slayer, Andy's assistant. Since the attack she'd stayed as close to her boss as possible. "Go home, get some sleep."

"I want to help," Alex said, her eyes red and her voice gravelly after her long vigil.

"You can help best by getting some rest," Buffy told her. "Meet us in Andy's office tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Alex said gruffly. Standing up, she took a quick look in Andy's room before nodding at them and heading towards the elevator.

Entering the room, Buffy winced. Andy was almost unrecognizable with the layers of bandages and bruises covering her face. And this was after several days, an eternity in slayer healing. The only sounds in the room were the beeps coming from the stack of monitoring equipment at the head of bed and the device attached to her breathing tube.

She watched her for a few minutes, willing her to wake up, before turning to Jessica. "Did anyone talk with her family?"

"Just a minute," Jessica said, stepping out into the hall. "No," she said, returning after speaking with Leah.

"No?" Buffy echoed, surprised. "Why?"

"Andy sent them off on a trip to celebrate her father's retirement. She's the only one who knows where they are."

"Crap," Buffy said. Pulling out her phone, she called the Doc. "Yeah, we're up with her now. No one's called her family. They're apparently on a trip. Someone needs to contact them before moving her. No, just following your rules," Buffy said with a sigh. "Yes, I'll take care of it." Scrunching her nose in distaste, Buffy connected to the Council switchboard and asked it to connect her to her sister. Although Willow insisted that it would never grow up to become SkyNet, it gave her the creeps. Demons she understood. This thing reminder her too much of some of those bad sci-fi movies Xander insisted they watch.

"Dawn, I need a favor," Buffy said, as soon as her sister answered .

"What?" Dawn's voice echoed grumpily in her ear .

Buffy didn't need to see her to know she was still angry that she wasn't allowed to come with them for the retrieval. Her voice said it all. "No one down here has been able to get ahold of Andy's parents. And you know how the Doc feels about contacting next of kin."

"Poor Buffy," Dawn said, giggling, her tone clearly amused. "So, where are they?"

"No idea. Some kind of vacation trip. Only Andy knows where they went," Buffy explained.

"And she's not coming up for air any time soon, is she," Dawn murmured.

"Nope. She was worked over real good. Even with slayer healing she's going to be out of action for months," Buffy told her. "And the Doc plans to keep her under as long as possible to give her a better chance to heal. So someone needs to track down her parents. I'm assuming they'll want to stay nearby."

"Got it," Dawn said. "What else do you need?"

"Does Andy's phone still show up on the status monitor?"

"Just a sec..." Buffy could hear her sister talking with someone, though she couldn't make out the words, even with her enhanced hearing. "Yeah, from its coordinates we're guessing some FBI or police hacker has it. Looks like someone's been trying to get into it."

"It's backed up, right?"

"Yup," Dawn said, after another side conversation. "Last time it was turned on."

"Okay, burn it," Buffy told her, trying to sound nonchalant giving the command to turn a ten thousand dollar custom phone into a puddle of molten metal. "And let Riley know in case someone freaks."

"Giles isn't going to be happy," Dawn warned her. "Phones that slayers can't break are very expensive."

"He'll live," Buffy said. "That's one of the reasons Willow picked that model, the remote self destruct. And have your friend set it up so I can access Andy's calendar from my phone."

"Is that possible?" Dawn asked before having another indistinct discussion with her companion. "Okay, she says no problem, but you'll have to sync it with the intranet hub in Andy's office."

"Do what with the what in her office?" Buffy asked in dismay. She thought she'd been dealing with all the tech mumbo-jumbo just fine until that point.

"Geeze, Buffy!" Dawn grumbled. "Join the 21st century. When you get to her office, give me a call. We'll walk you through it."

"Got it. Go to her office and call you."

"Anything else, oh sister mine?" Dawn asked in a saccharine sweet tone that made Buffy's teeth ache.

"Riley's note said we'd have to have a local resource attached if we wanted to deal with this ourselves, but he didn't say who. I need you to get me their name, badge number or whatever, and at least a picture. Anything else you can dig up on them would be great."

"Dental records? Blood type? Kindergarten report card?" Dawn asked, the sarcasm clear in her voice.

"Ah, no," Buffy told her. "Nothing that in depth. A short bio will do it."

"I'll see what I can dig up," Dawn said, her voice becoming faint.

"Good. Thanks. Bye. I'll talk with you in a couple hours," Buffy said, closing the call abruptly.

* * *

Buffy paced in the hallway outside of Andy's room, while the Council doctor reviewed her records with the attending physician. It seemed like a long, drawn out process, but the Doc had insisted that they follow her procedures when the Council had hired her on Riley's recommendation the year before.

The no-nonsense attitude of the Doc and her small transport team was very reassuring to Buffy and her own team as they waited. The methodical process had definite stages. Once the paperwork was complete and the hospital staff and the Doc and her team were in agreement about the current condition of Andy, she would be transferred to Council control. If there were no complications, Andy, the Doc, and her team would be transported up to the Council's Hudson Valley office in a borrowed helicopter.

* * *

"What's this?" Jo asked, looking down at the folder her former partner had thrown on her desk.

"Possible fashion victim," Mac said gruffly, carefully lowering himself into the chair next to her desk, his cane gripped tightly in one hand.

"How'd you get it away from the Feds?" she asked, reluctant to look at the most recent target of what the press had begun calling the Assistant Killer.

"They said we could have this one," he said, grimacing in distaste .

"Huh?" Jo stared at him in disbelief. The Feds never gave away high profile cases unless they were poison .

"Their profilers say it's an unrelated case," he told her.

"If it wasn't related why did they take it in the first place?" Jo asked.

He just pointed at the folder, waiting for her to open it.

Jo frowned. He'd been on desk duty as acting Sergeant for the squad for three months while his leg healed, and at some point he'd picked up the Lieutenant's cryptic speak. Shaking her head, she opened the folder and started reading.

The location of the attack was the first thing Jo noticed. "Shouldn't this go to the 15th?" she asked.

"Someone in the Commissioner's office must like you," Mac told her with a wry grin. "Or maybe you shouldn't have pissed off the Chief last week?"

"She's still alive?" she asked in surprise, ignoring his comment. The Chief had started out in the 14th and liked to stick her nose in where it didn't belong. Jo liked where she was in her career and had no desire to move up the ladder. She winced as she began reading the doctor's summary of the victim's injuries. "But no statement," she grumbled, sighing.

"Coma patients aren't very talkative," he said.

"She certainly fits the profile," Jo said, looking over the included bio. "Did they give an explanation in writing? If they don't think it's related to the other attacks they must have a good reason."

"The other victims were fired. She left on her own."

"And that's it?" Jo stared at him. "Someone brutally killed five of Miranda Priestly's former assistants. A sixth was attacked and survived but they don't think the attacks are related?"

"She wasn't fired," he said. "She quit."

"What's the difference?" Jo asked, baffled, grimacing down at her cold cup of coffee.

"All of the assistants who were attacked, were fired," he told her. "None of the ones who were promoted have been attacked. And she's the only one who wasn't fired or promoted."

"Miranda Priestly has been at Runway for over a decade and only one of her assistants ever quit?"

"Yup," He said, smirking at her.

"That's not enough. What else is going on with this case?" Jo asked, looking through the file again. After a decade as a detective she could smell the stink in this one a mile away. And not just because a garbage truck had broken down across the street.

"Other than a well connected victim who was beaten worse than the rest, but somehow survived?" he said. "Rumor has it it's a jurisdiction issue, so they passed it to us before they were forced to turn it over to someone else anyway."

"Who do they think she is? Some diplomat's wife?" Jo asked, before digging deeper in the file. "It says here she's just a lawyer," Jo said, holding up an addendum to the bio.

"Not exactly," he said. "It's more who she's a lawyer for."

"There's no current employment history here," Jo complained. "This says she worked for the Mirror for a few months after quitting Runway. And then more quitting to go to law school?"

"Read between the lines," Mac told her, reaching over and pulling out a copy of a hospital admittance form.

"Not seeing it," Jo grumbled, looking down at the document. She didn't recognize the string of characters under employer. "C. of W.S., LLC. What does that even mean?"

"They're an NGO known as 'The Council'," Mac told her. "They have more employees with diplomatic immunity than most embassies. Rumor has it they're into a lot of extra-legal activities and that they have more firepower than half the gangs in the city." He tapped the 3x5 photo of the victim. "I checked with a friend at the Plaza. Not only does she have half the ambassadors in the city on speed dial, she's the lawyer that gets called whenever any of their agents gets involved in a local matter and needs to be bailed out."

"And?" Jo asked, knowing there was a point in there somewhere, other than the bad press the city would probably get if she died.

"If we don't find the perp, they will. And it ain't gonna be pretty."

Jo shook her head in disgust. The City had more than its fare share of untouchable diplomats, but they usually weren't armed. "She's originally from Ohio. Did anyone interview her parents? Friends? Family members? Co-workers?" she asked, starting to pull together information she needed from the file .

"No," Mac said.

"No? She's been in a coma for almost a week," Jo said, gritting her teeth and glaring at him. "What have they been doing?"

Mac shrugged. "Trying to find a sucker to take the case."

"How long do I have?" Jo asked, not having to think too hard to know she was the designated sucker .

"Get them to cooperate and the Chief says you have as long as it takes," Mac said. "But downtown doesn't want to see any more bodies showing up in the press."

"Great," Jo muttered.


	3. Unexpected connections

Jo stepped out of the elevator. She wasn't sure how seeing the unconscious victim would help in this case but it was something she'd started doing since becoming a homicide detective. When she caught a case like this, the first thing she did after reading the case file was to go see the victim, before the crime scene. Not only did it help when visualizing the crime, she never wanted to forget what her job was about, that there was an actual victim who needed justice .

When she'd called earlier to confirm the location of Sachs, the receptionist in the Intensive Care Unit had warned her that if she wanted to see her today it had to be before lunch. Sachs was being moved to a private hospital later that day.

Stopping at the desk to let them know she was there, she could feel someone watching her. Turning, she spotted a girl sitting in a chair in a small waiting area. She couldn't quite pinpoint it but there was something slightly off about her and the way she seemed to be watching everyone.

Shaking her head, Jo turned back to the receptionist, displaying her badge.

"They give me the creeps," she said to Jo in a low voice. "I'll be glad when they leave."

"Who are they?" Jo asked, wondering what had spooked the receptionist. She hadn't thought to bring any uniforms with her. As a precaution, Sachs' name hadn't been released to the press but no one expected any trouble.

"She brought them with her," she said, visibly shuddering.

"Who?" Jo asked.

"You'll see," the receptionist said cryptically.

Frowning, Jo gave the girl another look before turning and heading in the direction the receptionist had pointed.

She didn't have far to go before she was stopped by a young woman, dressed all in black leather, standing in the hall. Further down the hall, another woman, her blonde hair glinting in the florescent lights, was pacing back and forth in front of a door just about where Jo guessed her destination was.

"You can't go any further," the tall, skinny blonde said, standing in front of her .

"I'm here to see Andrea Sachs," Jo told her, wondering why there wasn't a uniform guarding the room.

"She isn't having any visitors," the blonde told her, her stance giving the impression of immovability, her slender frame vibrating with barely disguised agitation

Not wanting to set her off, Jo carefully pulled out her badge and showed it to the woman. She started in surprise at the quickness of the woman plucking it from her fingers.

"Ms. Summers?" she said softly, holding the badge in the direction of the other woman, without taking her eyes off of Jo.

Jo blinked as the other woman was suddenly much closer without appearing to move. She wasn't that short, but everything about her, from the way her blonde hair floated around her face to her hands, gave the impression of a frail person who would blow away in a stiff wind. She didn't look like someone who would scare the receptionist but her designer suit screamed power to even Jo's jaded eyes.

Before she could say anything, the woman held up a hand in a silencing gesture as she examined Jo's badge. Handing it back, she took out a phone and turned around and spoke to someone for a minute, though Jo couldn't understand what she was saying, she didn't sound very happy.

* * *

It didn't take an expert to realize that the woman Leah was blocking was a cop. It was almost as if there were a sign over her head. But it wasn't until Buffy was standing in front of her examining her badge that she felt the very faint familiar echo. Turning around to give herself at least the illusion of privacy, something literally impossible with Leah, Jess, and Vi in listening distance, Buffy stepped back a few feet and called her sister. 

"Dawn? I know it's probably too soon for Riley's office to get back to you but do you at least have a contact name for me?" Buffy asked.

"Maybe," Dawn said.

"It wouldn't happen to be a Detective Polniaczek?" Buffy said, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.

"Jo Polniaczek? That was quick," Dawn muttered. "They just turned the case over to the city last night. The note from Riley says someone recommended that she be given the case, even though Andy wasn't injured in her precinct. I take it the detective is there now?"

"Yup, she's standing right here," Buffy hissed. "I was hoping to get the Doc and her crew on the road with Andy before we had to deal with the locals. Someone must have told her we were moving Andy today and she rushed over. She obviously couldn't wait until tomorrow."

"She does sound a bit too eager," Dawn said, agreeing with her. "Do you want me to tell Riley you want someone else less aggressive as your contact?"

"Nah, we'll keep her for now," Buffy told her. "We'll see how long the enthusiasm lasts when she finds out she's working with us. But you'll want to do a real background check on her for your little family tree project." 

"She's a slayer?" Dawn said, surprised, her voice almost a squeak.

"No, but she sort of pings like a potential," Buffy said .

"How old is she?"

"Late thirties?" Buffy guessed.

"That's old," Dawn said. "She must have missed the cut-off when Willow did her spell. If she really was a potential, she's the oldest one you or Faith have reported running into," she muttered. "I wonder how she escaped the First?"

"You can tell me what you find out later," Buffy said. She could hear paper rustling in the background as her sister searched for something. 

"Oh, right. Sorry. I'll let you know what I find out." Dawn said, hanging up.

"Leah, you can let her through," Buffy said, turning back around. "The Detective will be working with us on this."  
    
"How much longer?" Leah, asked before stepping to the side to let the Detective pass.

"The Doc should have Andy ready to go in ten. Why don't you go check on Wendy?" Buffy told her.

"Yes, ma'am."

"It's going to be a long couple weeks if they can't learn to say my name," Buffy grumbled before turning her attention to the detective.

"Which would be?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry," she said, holding out a hand to the detective. "Buffy Summers, Council Special Projects." Tilting her head, Buffy studied her intently for a moment. The Detective seemed to be very grounded. Hopefully, exposing her to their world wouldn't change that.

* * *

"You already know why I'm here," Jo said, frowning slightly under Summers' intent look.

"I know what kind of person should have been assigned to this case," Summers told her with a faint smile. "I'm sure you have a very impressive resume. So what brings you here? I wasn't expecting to meet with anyone from your department until tomorrow."

"I wanted to see her," Jo said, glancing in the direction of Sachs room.

"She's not exactly able to talk," Summers said.

"Understood," Jo said. "I'll also want to talk with her when she wakes up."

"As long as you don't get in the way you can see her," Summers told her. "But if the Doc says to leave, you leave."

Jo nodded and walked to the door. Before she could enter, Summers slipped into the room. Entering right behind her, Jo automatically catalogued its occupants. Summers leaned against the wall to the right of the door. A short red head in jeans and a leather jacket stood at the back of the room, her alertness making her stand out, reminding Jo of a veteran cop on a stakeout, her eyes constantly scanning the room. A tall brunette, in red leather pants and a denim jacket, leaned against the window next to her.

A doctor, his hospital ID in a prominent spot, stood next to a nurse hovering nearby. A short, grey haired woman dressed in a militaristic outfit in a blue so deep it was almost black, her air of authority unmistakable, was carefully unplugging wires from assorted beeping machines Jo didn't recognize and plugging them into something that looked very much like a high tech cot with its own blinking lights along one edge. Another similarly dressed woman, but much younger, seemed to be monitoring Sachs with some kind of gadget while this was going on. The only other male, dressed in the same colors, stood next to her. Jo wondered if he was the muscle since none of the women looked like they could lift their own weight. 

Cautiously stepping to the foot of Sachs' bed, Jo looked down at the battered woman. Other than her face, barely visible under heavy bandages and an oxygen mask, Jo couldn't really see her under the quilted blue robe Sachs seemed to be wearing. Her hands and feet were also covered in gloves and booties made out of a similar material .

There was nothing to see that indicated that this was the same woman in the photograph in the folder on her desk.

"The chopper is here," the tall blonde from the hallway said, entering the room.

"Okay, everybody who's just watching, out!" the grey haired woman stated without stopping what she was doing.

Trying to imprint an image of Sachs' face in her head, Jo felt a hand on her arm .

"That would be us," Summers told her, pulling her out of the room ahead of everyone else. Turning to the other blonde once they were in the hall she said, "Leah, you and Vi have her until she's in the infirmary up at the mansion. Vi will bring you back down in the morning."

"Wendy and I have duty tonight, Ms. Summers," Leah objected. "That's too much for her by herself."

"Jessica and I can cover for you," Summers told her. "I'm sure she won't mind if we join her."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Why don't you go tell Wendy," Summers said before turning to the red head. Jo hadn't completely figured out the relationships between the women in the group but Summers was obviously in charge .

"Vi?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Dawn should have tracked down Andy's parents by the time you get up to the mansion. Take Leah with you when you go to pick them up."

"What about the brat?" Vi asked. "She'll want to crash the party."

"No," Summers told her firmly. "You'll have enough to handle without her tagging along."

"She won't agree," Vi said, clearly amused .

"She'll live," Summers said. She paused for a moment before continuing, "And I'm sure you can think of a dozen ways to convince her to stay home."

Jo wondered who she was talking about in such an amused tone.

Vi shook her head, blushing. "That isn't my fault!" she protested.

"And we all believed you," the other young woman said, laughing as she added, "The first time."

"We'll meet you upstairs," Summers said, shaking her head, her lips twitching. "Come on Jess. You're welcome to tag along Detective, though it won't be anything exciting." Nodding at the others, she started walking towards the elevators. Something about the way she moved caught Jo's attention. Frowning, she watched all of them as she joined them in front of the elevator. There was a animal-like fluidity to the way they moved, reminding her of jungle cats she'd seen at the zoo.

* * *

"Why did you send her?" Jo asked, as they stood near the helipad, watching the futuristic looking helicopter disappear into the clouds. Sending the reluctant blonde in place of one of the others didn't fit the picture Jo was building of the group.

"Who?"

"Leah?" Jo said.

"She found Andy," Summers told her. "None of them are girl scouts," Summers said, following Wendy, the youngest looking of the group, in off the roof towards the elevator. "But finding her like that was a shock. It'll do her good to get out of the city. And she needs the closure of knowing that Andy is now safe," she added, pushing the call button.

Jo frowned, looking at the other two women for their reactions. They both shrugged.

"What else can we do for you, Detective?" Summers asked, pushing the button for the hospital parking level.

"When can I see her office?" Jo asked. "Also, seeing her schedule for the week would be helpful." She wasn't sure what she would find, if anything, but tracing Sachs' movements for the week or two before she was attacked was basic detective work. She probably wasn't going to have time to put together the kind of victim profile she preferred, given the sensitivity of the case, but whatever she could find out would be better than the almost nothing in the case file the FBI had sent over.

"Sure, that can be arranged," Summers said. "We're finished here. When did you want to see it? This afternoon? Or tomorrow morning after we meet with your Chief?"

Looking down at her watch, Jo grimaced. She still had paperwork to do for her last case. That would take up a couple hours. And if she missed another parent teacher conference, Rick wouldn't be happy with her. He'd only agreed to joint custody of Jaime after the divorce because she'd promised to be more involved in their daughter's education.

"I have a parent-teacher thing at my daughter's school this afternoon," she told her regretfully. "It'll have to be in the morning."

"Okay. Do you have the address?"

"Yes, it's just a couple streets down from the station."

* * *

Buffy had seen her office before, of course, but never without Andy in it. Two small windows looked out onto the busy side street. From the one behind Andy's desk, she could see the coffee shop on the corner, the Chinese restaurant and buffet across the street, and the local clinic at the other end. Her desk was purely functional with a monitor and keyboard on a swinging arm between the desk and wall. She idly wondered why Andy had picked this location.

Sitting behind the desk, Buffy looked up at the three slayers standing in front of her. "We'll have company tomorrow. Jess, why don't you help Wendy and Alex put away things the detective shouldn't see. I need to make a few calls and then I'll do the same in here. And does anyone have a key to Andy's apartment upstairs? I suspect she'll want to give that a look also. 

"I know where she keeps her spare," Alex volunteered. 

"Okay. Just keep in mind that this is Andy's personal space. Try not to be too nosy," Buffy told them. "Just make sure any weapons and obvious Council property is put away."

"We've got it," Jess told her. "Let's go," she said, guiding the others out of the room.

Standing up to close the door, Buffy pulled out her phone, dialing a familiar number.

"Giles, we need someone down here to fill in for Andy while she's out," she said, before he could say hello.

"Do you have anyone in mind?" he asked.

"She's the only lawyer I know, so... no," Buffy told him. "Preferably someone who is read-in on Council stuff and won't be afraid of our tag-along."

"Quite right," he said. "I'll see who I can find."

"Use the old fogies on that advisory board you rammed down our throats," Buffy suggested. "They must be good for something, besides pats on the back and tickets to Broadway shows."

"They serve an important function," Giles protested.

"You keep believing that," Buffy told him, trying not to laugh at his offended tone. "Did Dawn tell you our little news?"

"About the Potential detective? Yes."

"Any idea why she didn't become a slayer from Willow's spell?" Buffy asked. "Would have thought she was perfect for it. Or why the First didn't try to kill her when it was chewing through Potentials?"

"We don't know that the First didn't try to eliminate her," Giles corrected. "The two events are likely related. Buffy, when was the last time you looked at the active slayer rolls?"

"It's been a while," she admitted.

"You should talk with your sister," he said. "She knows more about slayer family history than anyone else now living. She's made some fascinating discoveries."

"The point, Giles," Buffy said, "I'm not getting any younger."

"Hrmph..." echoed loudly in her ear. "We have yet to find a current slayer older than you. And all of the potentials who have since become slayers were all too young to become slayers at the time."

"So, I'm always going to be the oldest living slayer?" 

"For the rest of your life, yes," he clarified.

"And these older potentials? They got lucky? They'll never become slayers?"

"Quite."

"Huh." Buffy shook her head. Something to think about later. When she wasn't dealing with this.

"What else  can I do for you?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"The comfort thing with Andy's parents when they show up," Buffy asked. "And don't let Dawn monopolize Vi's time. I have some things I need her to do but she has to be here to do them."

"I'll see what I can do," he told her.

"Thanks Giles!" Buffy said before hanging up and quickly redialing.

"Hey Dawn! So I'm sitting at Andy's desk, and I want to see her calendar and stuff. How do we set that up."

The glare was obvious even a hundred miles away. "Simple, even for you, oh spoilsport," Dawn grumbled.

"Vi's already gone to pick up Andy's parents?"

"Yup, she and Leah left half an hour ago. Some place on the Maine coast with famous lighthouses," Dawn said. "She'll have them here before lunch tomorrow." 

"That's quick," Buffy said. 

"That helicopter we borrowed to pick up Andy was headed in that direction. So they hitched a lift."

"How are they going to get back?" Buffy asked. "It wasn't big enough to hold a car or even her bike."

"The daughter of one of the members of Giles' Board of Trusties lives in Boston. She's lending them a car."

"Okay..." Buffy wondered who it was. "That's generous." 

"Andy has friends everywhere," Dawn told her. "You need to find out who hurt her. You do know that, right?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"So, Andy's schedule," Buffy reminded her. "How do I get to it. And is there anything in it our detective can't see?"

"She has several calendars. One is her everything calendar; which combines her personal, eyes only stuff with her work calendar, the other is public."

"You've been poking around in her stuff already?" Buffy asked, only marginally surprised.

"Just a little," Dawn admitted, "but I found that out in her ICO file."

"Her what?"

"I-C-O," Dawn said. "Her 'in case of' file - it's got 'In case of death',  
'In case of coma', 'In case of kidnapping'... stuff like that."

"Scarily efficient, our Andy," Buffy muttered, looking around her office as she talked. Even Giles wasn't this organized.

"Yup. And you'll never guess who she says to contact in case of death or coma," Dawn said.

"She's not married. So... her parents," Buffy answered, even though it was obviously the wrong choice.

"Nope, they're in her Council file as next of kin. Her instructions here are completely different."

"Significant other?" Buffy asked, even though if so the slayer rumor mill hadn't picked up on it.

"Not as such," Dawn told her. "Like I said, you'll never guess."

"Okay, who?"

  



	4. Staffing Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's going to take a little bit of interagency cooperation to get this investigation off the ground.

Stopping just out of view of anyone in the small conference room, Buffy quickly checked her face and hair in her compact for any signs of her sprint up the stairwell. Satisfied that no one would be able to tell that she'd been running more than fashionably late until that last burst of slayer speed, Buffy stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

Slipping into one of the remaining seats, she looked around at the other seated occupants. Sam Finn, as expected, was dressed in the impressively non-descript uniform her group used for diplomatic meetings. She hadn't been expecting anyone else from Riley's team to show up, but Sam's solitary presence was a very clear indication that they were definitely taking a hands-off approach. If they'd expected to be part of the investigation, Graham or Riley would have been with her, no matter what they'd told Giles.

"Sam," she said, nodding in her direction. Sam winked back at her.

The others wouldn't have been hard to figure out, even if Andy's profiles of them hadn't included photos. The Commissioner and his assistant sat at one end of the table, the Chief of Detectives and hers at the other.

"Commissioner, Chief Cagney, I didn't believe you've met Ms. Summers before," Sam said, introducing her.

"Commissioner, Chief Cagney," Buffy said, briefly standing to shake their hands.

"Ms. Summers, Agent Finn has assured us that your organization can take care of this problem without attracting undue attention from the press," the Commissioner stated.

"We'll do our best, Commissioner," Buffy told him, projecting sureness. "Any press exposure will not come from us."

"Good, good. We'll leave you to your discussion then," he said, standing up. "Chief Cagney and her office should be able to provide you with any assistance you need." Nodding at the others, he stepped from the room followed by his assistant.

Raising an eyebrow at his quick departure, Buffy looked at the Chief.

"As long as we let him take credit for the high-profile cases, he leaves us alone to do our jobs," the Chief said.

"Ah," Buffy murmured, nodding in understanding. She had Giles to play political buffer herself. "So, how are we going to do this?" she asked. "I had to promise our new lawyer that I wouldn't sign anything without her approval. She won't arrive in the city until late this afternoon, but we can at least work out the broad details."

"You have complete authority over the investigation," Sam told her. "We'll provide any special assistance you request," she added, "but otherwise it's all yours." She slid a large envelope across the table. "Have your lawyer review this. It's the standard paperwork. I'll need a signed copy to take back to Washington tomorrow morning."

"So, the usual apocalypse disclaimer?" Buffy asked, opening the envelope and quickly glancing through it. "How much operational freedom do we really have here?"

"I prefer having my detectives running any investigations in the city," the Chief said, clearly unhappy. "But I was over-ruled. You have powerful friends, Ms. Summers. This investigation is now so classified only one of my detectives has been given clearance to be involved."

"Detective Polniaczek?" she asked. "We met yesterday," Buffy added in response to the Chief's frown.

"She's one of Chief Cagney's best detective," Sam said.

At the Chief's terse nod, Buffy said, "Good choice. Does she know yet that we're running this?"

"No," the Chief said. "I have a meeting with her in an hour. As long as you are operating on this case in my city, I expect her to be a part of it."

"Are you lending her to us or is she just observing?" Buffy asked. She really didn't have a spare slayer to babysit an observer.

"I expect her to keep me updated on your progress but otherwise she'll take her orders from you," the Chief said. "I want her back, in one piece, when you're done," she added firmly.

"We'll try not to break her, but we can't make any promises," Buffy said.

"A little experience in your world won't hurt her," Chief Cagney said. "Just don't forget that she doesn't have your unique abilities."

Frowning at the unexpected knowledge she was displaying, Buffy looked at Sam, who shook her head. "My world?" she asked.

"I would be a pretty poor Chief of Detectives if I wasn't aware of the non-human elements in my city," she said. "I expect you to listen to her advice in this matter, unless the Council has suddenly started hiring people with her expertise?"

"You have experience with the old Council," Buffy stated, suppressing a groan.

"Yes," Chief Cagney said but didn't elaborate.

"We aren't anything like them," Buffy said. "The old Council..."

"Wouldn't have asked permission," the Chief said, acknowledging she knew the difference. "I appreciate your efforts in keeping us informed."

"What else?" Buffy asked, turning to Sam.

"The FBI turned over their complete case files to us." She slid a slim briefcase across the table to Buffy. "Our analysts went over everything with a fine toothed comb and narrowed it down to this."

"I'm sure they wasn't happy with that," Buffy said. "How'd you manage to pry it loose?"

"It wasn't too hard," Sam said with a shrug. "They've hit a dead end using their usual methods and would rather it blew up in someone else's face."

"Anything else? Like an actual suspect?"

"We believe there is a clear connection between Sachs and the earlier attacks but our analysts couldn't find anything definitive. The FBI is still claiming there isn't a connection."

"So, probably not directly Council related," Buffy said, nodding. "But someone who knows enough to bring in talent that can handle someone like Andy."

Sam frowned, giving the Chief a quick look before answering her. "Our sources are being very quiet about this," she warned. "Possibly too quiet."

"Okay, I'll pass that on," Buffy said, standing up. Picking up the briefcase. "Anything I can send to the wiz kids up at the Mansion?" she asked

"A duplicate of that was sent up to Willow," Sam said. "If she needs any physical evidence, she knows how to contact us."

"Thanks, Sam," Buffy said. "Chief Cagney, we'll try to avoid damaging both your city and your detective. She could have been one of us, we'll treat her like family."

"One of you?" Sam asked, standing up, her face showing her surprise.

Buffy just winked at her and slipped out the door, leaving her with the Chief.

* * *

The meeting with the Chief hadn't gone the way she was expecting, Jo thought, stomping into the station afterward.

"Did you know?" she asked her partner, running into him as she entered the squad room.

"Know what?" he asked.

"That this isn't our case anymore?" she said, waving a large manila envelope in his face.

"That was quick," he said. "Who'd they pass it to?"

"To that *Council*," Jo grumbled, walking around him to her desk.

"The Chief couldn't have been happy about that," he said, following her.

"No. But they agreed to allow someone to work with them on this," Jo said, glaring at him.

"Let me guess," he said, laughing. "You?"

"It isn't funny," Jo protested. "I didn't become a detective so I could babysit. And, on top of that, it's classified. By the Feds."

He shook his head. "You'll need a real office then," he told her. "Give me a couple hours to find you one."

"Thanks," Jo said, flopping into her chair. She stared at the envelope for a minute before opening it.

* * *

"Buffy? That detective is here," Alex said, cautiously sticking her head into the room.

"Send her on in," Buffy said, looking up from the small pile of charred metal and plastic, glad that at least one of them had stopped ma'am-ing her.

"Have a seat," Buffy said, waving to one of the chairs in front of Andy's desk. "So, what do we call you?"

"Call me?" the detective asked, sounding puzzled.

"Are you 'Detective', 'Jo', 'Detective Jo'? Ms. Polniaczek? 'Hey You'? Or something else?" Buffy asked. "We aren't too formal around here but the younger girls seem to think anyone over twenty five is a 'ma'am'."

"Jo or Detective," she said. "I answer to either."

"Good. I'm 'Buffy'. No 'Miss', Ms., or 'Summers', just Buffy," Buffy said. "Any questions?"

"Who do I report to?" Jo asked, taking out a small pad of paper. "The Chief wasn't too clear about that."

"This is my responsibility, so, me," Buffy said. "We'll have to do a show-n-tell tomorrow for you and our new lawyer, preferably up at the mansion. We'll cover chain of command and organization during that. We have this whole orientation thing we do for new employees. I'm not sure how much she knows about the things we do... might as well introduce the two of you to it at the same time, even though we aren't paying. Which I really need to talk to my boss and your boss about."

"Mansion?" Jo asked curiously.

"Headquarters. Near Hyde Park. Used to be one of those old mansions," Buffy said. "We'll go up for the day."

"Okay, I can do that," Jo said. "But I don't think you can pay me. It would probably be seen as bribery."

"No, wouldn't want anyone to think we bribed the NYC police. Next thing you know everyone else will want something to work with us," Buffy said, laughing. "Just kidding," she added when Jo didn't appear to share her amusement. "So, where do you want to start?" she asked.

"Sachs..."

"Andy," Buffy said, correcting her. "Everyone in the Council calls her 'Andy'. Things will work out a lot better if you do too."

"Okay, Andy," Jo said. "I need to build a profile of her and her movements over the last few weeks. People she met with. People she's in contact with on a regular basis. Enemies. Friends."

"Andy isn't the kind of person to make a lot of enemies, or at least not any more than the rest of us," Buffy said. "And she's a very private person. Alex is her assistant. She'd be the best person to ask about those things."

"Can I see her calendar? E-mail? Cell phone? Apartment?"

"Her apartment is up-stairs. We can go up there when we're done here. Alex can get you a print-out of her calendar," Buffy said. "Cell phone? Might be a problem."

"Was it stolen? I didn't see anything about it in her file," Jo asked.

"Not exactly," Buffy said, sliding the pile of phone parts across the desk. "This is what the FBI returned to us.

"What happened to it?" Jo asked, reaching out as if to poke it.

"Our phones have some special features," Buffy said. "We figure someone must have accidentally triggered its self destruct."

Jo shook her head. "Phone records?"

"I've already requested them," Buffy told her. "We should have them tomorrow."

"E-mail?" she asked, making a note.

"Someone up at the mansion should be able to help, assuming the new lawyer okays it," Buffy told her.

"Okay, is there anything else I need to know about her before I start digging into her life?"

"Other than she's very important to a lot of people? And the sooner we figure this out the better for all of us?"

"Other than that," Jo said.

"She has contingency plans covering all sorts of things," Buffy said, leaning back. "Including this. She can be a bit of an over achiever."

"She left instructions on what to do if she ended up in a coma?"

"Yup. Which is good. Her office will keep chugging along while she's out. Her sub won't have to start from scratch. It's like she's on a long vacation, except she isn't able to enjoy it, what with the coma. And yes, we do expect her to recover," Buffy added.

"Can I see these instructions?"

"After tomorrow's orientation," Buffy said. "Most of it won't make sense until then. And you'll probably need a lawyer to explain some parts of it. Good thing we'll have one by the end of the day. But there is one unexpected item in her instructions."

"Unexpected?"

Buffy wasn't surprised that the detective had jumped right on that. "She left a letter for someone."

"Parents? Friend? Lover?" Jo asked.

"We notified her parents," Buffy said. "Standard policy. She didn't leave them a note. You might get to meet them tomorrow. We sent someone for them yesterday. As far as anyone knows, this isn't a friend or a lover."

"Who?"

"How would you like to visit a certain fashion magazine editor before checking out Andy's apartment?" Buffy asked. "I need to deliver a letter."

"Really?" Jo said, surprised.

"Oh yeah. That was a huge surprise. As far as we know, she's never even mentioned her since she started working for the Council. And no e-mail or entries on Andy's calendar."

"Can I see the letter?" Jo asked. "It might contain important evidence."

"Not until its' recipient has seen it," Buffy said.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Jo said.

"Unlike the FBI or the media, we don't believe she had anything to do with the attacks," Buffy said. "Several of our analysts think she might be the real target."

"Why didn't anyone tell me that," Jo said, pulling out her phone. "I can have a protection detail on her before the end of the day."

"I'm telling you now," Buffy said. "We have several people keeping an eye on her and her children right now. By the end of the day we should have our own bodyguards in place."

"Does she know about Andy?" Jo asked. "The identity of the most recent victim has been kept out of the press."

"Not unless someone else told her," Buffy said. "So, do you want to come with?" she asked, standing up. "Or would you rather check out her apartment?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Guest Appearance**
> 
> Yes, that was Cagney of "Cagney and Lacey". But not enough to consider this a crossover with that show. She's being just borrowed for a couple scenes.


	5. In the Devil's Lair

"There's a detective and some other woman here to see you," her newest assistant said, standing nervously in her door.  Miranda raised an eyebrow. That was all it took. 

"Right, I'll tell them you're busy," she said, scurrying away.

Returning to the photos from the previous day's shoot in Central Park, Miranda dismissed the interruption from her mind, ignoring the faint buzz of voices in the outer office.

"They insist on seeing you," the insufferable girl told her, returning a minute later.

"Coffee," Miranda ordered, waving her away. 

"Yes, Miranda," she said, disappearing in a blur of movement.

"Miranda?" Friday, her First Assistant, said in the overly respectable tone she used whenever she expected to be fired. She wasn't the best assistant Miranda had ever had, but like only one before her she'd not only earned her place in the pantheon of legendary assistants but had her own nickname bestowed by Nigel before he left for greener pastures.

"Yes?" she asked, looking at her pale assistant for enlightenment, with an inflection that could send rats fleeing from a perfectly seaworthy craft.

"A Ms. Summers and Detective Polniaczek insisted that they see you now," Friday said.

Picking up her glasses from her desk, Miranda slid them onto her face, pausing for that all important second before firmly putting them in place, ready to give the invaders the full force of her displeasure at their presence. As she got older, Miranda found  her tolerance for fools and their nonsense reached an all time low by mid afternoon.

Miranda focused on the women visible in her outer office, behind Friday.

"They can make an appointment like anyone else," she said dismissively. 

"Sorry ma'am, they won't leave," Friday said. "They want to talk about an Andrea Sachs." She gave Miranda a questioning look, obviously recognizing the forbidden name but not about to admit it.

"Of course," Miranda muttered to herself, grimacing at hearing a name that hadn't been uttered in her office in over half a decade. "Who else."

"Show them in," she said.

Entering first, the badge clipped to her belt in unneeded identification, the detective projected an air of authority, without appearing threatening, Miranda noticed, hiding her mild surprise. She obviously hadn't gone to the same interview school as the FBI agents who had barged into her office several months ago, ready to accuse her of some kind of vendetta against incompetent former assistants she'd fired.

The other woman, a blonde wearing Armani, in navy blue tweed of all things, entered after a brief discussion with a much taller woman who took up a position just outside her door. She wouldn't have looked out of place at a 'Runway' photoshoot if she weren't so much shorter than the average Runway model, Miranda thought, watching her stop next to the detective. Her movements were oddly exotic as she seemed to not so much walk as flow into place. There was something about her, something dangerous, that set off alarms in Miranda's mind. This wasn't someone to trifle with, her subconscious told her.

"Well?" Miranda said, glaring at them over the top of her glasses after nodding to Friday to leave.

Summers raised an eyebrow in apparent amusement. "Andy Sachs used to work for you," she said.

"She performed adequately," Miranda said, unwilling to say more. It had taken her over a year to accept responsibility for scaring away someone who showed so much promise. Someone she'd hoped to groom to follow in her footsteps, a secret shared only with her therapist. Not even Nigel, her partner in crime for so many years, had been aware of those particular plans.

"Must have been more to it than that," Summers said smugly.

Miranda glared at her, her face set in an expression that had sent lesser beings running for the door.

"Not bad," she said, apparently unfazed by the look. Meeting Miranda's eyes calmly, she removed a slim envelope from her jacket and placed it on her desk. "Andy wanted this delivered to you if anything happened to her," she said.

"Who are you?" Miranda demanded, something in her chest starting to ache with an unfamiliar feeling at the implications of that statement.

"Someone who understands her value," Summers said, the raised eyebrow clearly indicating what she thought of Miranda for letting Andrea escape. "Who has complete faith in her abilities."

Miranda looked down at the letter, her eyes following the once familiar elegant handwriting spelling out her name.

"We'll wait outside while you read it," Summers said, motioning to the detective. She closed the door behind them, leaving Miranda alone, with a letter she dreaded opening.

 _

> Miranda,
> 
> I'm sure this comes as a surprise. If you are reading this, and some unknown woman who wasn't remotely scared off by the scowl I'm sure you gave her, handed it to you, it's very likely that I am dead.
> 
> I won't apologize for taking so long to contact you. Especially in this fashion. Even now, I am unable to explain my feelings towards you. There are still long days when I regret abandoning you in Paris that year and others where I know it was the best thing I could have done. I wasn't ready then, or even now, to say this to you, if you even allowed me a chance.
> 
> But if you're reading this, I suspect I'll never have that opportunity anyway. So let me have my moment. Please.
> 
> I love my job. I'm doing wonderful things here. Helping our people to do their jobs better. It's like having hundreds of little sisters. Full of energy and dreams and power. But there's a hole in it. A place in my heart that only you could ever fill. I have my own dreams of spending the rest of my life with you, however impossible that might be. In any way you would be willing to let me.
> 
> I know that my last thoughts will always be of you, glaring at me over the tops of your glasses, in that adorably indomitable way you have, for doing something I thought would please but instead fell far short of your sense of perfection.
> 
> If they offer help, for whatever reason, please take it. For me. I don't think you'll regret it.
> 
> Your most faithful servant,
> 
> Andrea

_

Miranda put the letter down and blindly turned her chair towards the windows that made up one wall of her office. She wasn't sure how to feel about the letter. Only Andrea would have the temerity to declare her love and say goodbye at the same time. A love Miranda wasn't sure she could accept. It had never once occurred to her that anyone could feel something like that for her.

But first things first. Her feelings could be examined later. They had not actually said Andrea was dead. Or, in fact, what had happened to her. Turning back to her desk, she pressed a button on her phone. "Send them back in," she told her assistant bluntly. "And clear my schedule for the rest of the day."

"Yes, Miranda," Friday unquestioningly answered.

Turning back around, Miranda gazed out at the city until she heard the door to her office open and then re-close.

"Who are you," she asked the short blonde again.

"Buffy Summers, head troubleshooter for a small NGO, commonly known as 'the Council'," she said. "Andy's our local legal expert."

"Legal expert?" Miranda looked at her, puzzled. She'd known Andrea had left that atrocious little newspaper after only a year but she'd lost track of her after that. Nigel, her only link to Andrea, hadn't said where she'd moved on to after that.

"You really haven't heard from her in a long time," Summers said, nodding to herself. "She started working for us while she was going to Columbia. My people think she can do legal magic and make the impossible merely improbable."

Bracing herself, Miranda asked her next question. "What happened to her? Where is she?"

"She's the most recent victim of the person attacking your former assistants," the detective told her bluntly, joining the conversation. "She was moved to a private hospital by Ms. Summer's organization yesterday."

"Where?" Miranda asked, feeling a small twinge of guilt.

"It's need to know, at the moment," Summers said, interrupting the detective before she could answer the question. "She's safe where she is until we find the person who attacked her."

"I want to see her," Miranda said.

"Why?" Summers asked.

Miranda just stared at her until she agreed.

"There's not much to see," Summers said, sighing. "She's very mummy like. The Doc has her in an induced coma."

"I still want to see her," Miranda insisted.

Shaking her head, Summers took out her phone and called someone. "Hey, it's me. Who else would call you from my phone?" Summers muttered something under her breath that sounded like 'sisters' to Miranda. "Ask the Doc if we can add someone to Andy's visitor list. Who? Miranda Priestly." A shriek that even Miranda could hear caused Summers to quickly pull her phone away from her head.

"My sister. Apparently she's a fan," Summers said to the detective, wincing before putting the phone back to her ear.

"I've got an old friend like that," the detective said sympathetically. "She tried to nominate her for sainthood. The Pope apparently wasn't amused."

Listening to them, Miranda wasn't sure to be amused or horrified. "Well," she said. She hoped she didn't run into these people. Maybe she should see if she could hire additional security to keep away the groupies she hadn't known about until now.

"You're all set," Summers said. "Just let them know who you are at the gate and someone will escort you to her."

"The gate where?" Miranda asked, exasperated.

"The mansion," she said, the 'of course' said silently, as if Miranda already knew that. "We'll make sure you assistant has the directions," she added in response to the frosty glare sent her way.

"Who's in charge of this investigation?" Miranda asked bluntly, now that the Andrea issue was taken care of. The Commissioner still owed her one. If he needed a push she could provide it.

"You're looking at her," Summers said.

"What are the police doing about the attack on Andrea?" Miranda asked, wondering why this 'Council' was involved and not the police if Andrea was one of their employees.

"Assisting," Summers said.

"Assisting?" the detective mumbled, giving Summers an odd look that Miranda couldn't identify.

"Why aren't you out there finding whomever did this!" she demanded.

"The FBI just turned the case over this morning," the detective said, slightly defensive.

Summers tilted her head slightly and gave Miranda a look. "Andy will be fine, eventually," she said. "But you needn't worry about that. What you should be worrying about is why they seem to be headed in your direction."

"My direction?" The thought hadn't occurred to her that this had anything to do with her. And what about her daughters, she wondered, panic making her mind go a mile a minute.

"Yes, you."

Miranda glared at her and picked up her phone. Hitting the button for her First Assistant, she started rattling off commands. She'd cleared her schedule for the rest of the day, arranged for the new Roy to pick the girls up early from school, and was about to tell her to get the head of the security company Runway used for photo shoots on the phone when a small, dainty hand reached over and firmly took away the handset.

"We'll be handling your personal security," she said, putting down the phone. "That firm you normally use would frighten them away."

"You're using me as bait," Miranda said, aghast at the arrogance.

"Not exactly," she said. "but if it makes you feel better to think of it that way, go ahead. Your bodyguard is currently in transit. She should be here tonight."

"And my daughters?" she asked. "What is their role in this farce?"

"We won't make any promises," Summers told her, "but they will be as safe as we can possibly make them."

"How do you plan to accomplish that?" Miranda asked.

"One of our younger agents attends Dalton. She and another agent will guard them until this is over." She looked her watch. "In fact, they should be being introduced about now. We'll meet up with them at your townhouse."

* * *

The rug she was kneeling on barely shielded her from the cold, damp ground along the river. Leaning forward she carefully shoved another sliver of oak into the fiercely burning fire. With the ease of long practice, she ignored the ghostly voices whispering somewhere behind her. All that mattered was the smokey form of her patron taking shape in front of her.

The time for the final sacrifice was rapidly approaching but the previous one had not gone as planned. The sacrifice had unexpectedly fought off the golem and survived. She needed to know what to do. Would the ritual work if one of the sacrifices lived? What was so important about this one? Her patron hadn't explained why this one, instead of one of the others. Was spilling her blood enough?

Could she still seize control of the line from the Heretic and restore the heritage that had been stolen from them centuries ago to its rightful place before it became lost forever?

It was something the women of her family had dreamed of and plotted since the sorcerers stole the power from them, but she was the first willing enough to risk everything. But first she needed to eliminate the one that had turned her back on everything the family represented. The one who'd inherited the power to direct the heritage but refused to do anything with it. Her sacrifice would provide the necessary power for the ritual to succeed in rebinding the line.

Throwing incense onto the fire, she bowed low before the one who'd shown her what to do. Shown her how to prevent her family's heritage from being lost. Given her the avenue to the power she needed.

* * *

"Why are you allowing this?" asked the one as they watched from a safe distance as the woman bowed to their enemy. "She is one of your people's descendants. He has fooled her. Told her lies. Twisted her and set her on the path she wished to prevent."

"This is the last test. The First failed to destroy them, giving him this chance to take them as his own. If he fails, they are mine again," said the other. "Never again to be pawns of the so-called Guardians of Balance."

"You expect them to play fair? To let go of one of their most useful tools? They will find another way."

"They can try," the other said.

"You have a plan," said the one.

"A plan that requires her to fail," the other said. "She serves a purpose. Her actions have already begun the gathering of the families." With one last look towards the fire, the other nodded to her companion and disappeared into the night.

"I hope this works out better than your last plan," the one whispered to herself before she too fled from the scene. Their enemy couldn't directly harm them but being too close to his presence generated a feeling she found disturbing.


	6. Is that a leprechaun?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important Author's Note:** The Priestly twins, in the movie, attend a school called Dalton (And a different school in the original novel). 
> 
> There is actually a real school in New York called The Dalton School. The school that the twins attend in this story, for the little that it appears here (or in the movie for that matter), in no way resembles the real Dalton school. All they share is the name and that it is private. And nothing else! In fact, in this story it's not even co-ed. And is much smaller. 
> 
> So if you know people going to or who went to (or you went to) the Real [tm] Dalton School, this isn't that school. The Dalton school in this story resembles the other two fictional schools mentioned in this and the previous chapter more than it does the real one of that name. So don't expect it to match. It's not really a key plot point. I just thought I would use the canon name for their school.
> 
> Word Count: 3,141
> 
> * * *

Andy stared across the valley, squinting at the huge bonfire on the other side. She didn't feel hungry, though she couldn't remember the last time she ate. Shielding her eyes against the bright moon, she could see shadows passing in front of the bright flames. Watching the hypnotic scene, her thoughts drifted back to the past.

She liked to think of herself as a quick study but it had taken her two months of working at the Mirror to realize that her time at Runway, or more accurately Miranda Priestly, had ruined print journalism for her. Two months of writing obituaries, interviewing public employees for hard hitting articles on street cleaning, and assisting a photojournalist document the yearly spring garden show. Journalism? Yes. Something of world shattering importance? Not even close. And definitely lacking in the terror inducing, adrenaline boosting excitement of being a Priestly girl.

She'd flailed about for an additional month, putting in her time at the Mirror, before coming up with a plan. She didn't rush things but over the following month she'd worked out the details, filled out paper work, requested transcripts. And retook the LSAT. And then waited patiently to hear back from Columbia, NYU, and several other less prestigious local law schools.

And had no one to celebrate with when Columbia accepted her. Her parents still weren't speaking to her, and her friendships with Lily and Doug hadn't recovered from the Nate fiasco. In some ways that was a good thing. The first year at Columbia had been the hardest. She'd mastered the art of taking college classes while at Northwestern, but Columbia was on a completely different level. She'd practically lived in the library that year.

And then, near the end of that year, something strange had happened. The significance of the day didn't occur to her until much later, but she'd fallen asleep in the library, and had a strange dream that she could barely remember when she woke up. 

The first surprise had been when she bit through the end of her favorite pen. Her long standing habit of chewing on her pens came to an abrupt halt with the resulting mouthful of ink.

The second surprise was when she accidentally ripped one of her two hundred dollar, five hundred page study guides in half after returning to her apartment. She'd just picked it up when it seemed to come apart in her hands like tissue paper.

* * *

Buffy trailed the others into the small building. She saw no reason to go with Alex and the detective to check Andy's apartment. One more person traipsing around wouldn't make things any clearer.

Stepping into the office, she noticed that the door was closed. Looking at Wendy, sitting at Alex's desk, she asked "Who's in Andy's office?"

"It's the new lawyer, ma'am," she said. "She wanted privacy to make some calls before you go over to Miranda Priestly's house."

"Okay," Buffy said, taking a seat. "Beep her to let her know I'm here." She'd briefly talked with the lawyer earlier that morning but they'd never met. All she really knew about her was that she came from one of the old Council families, and had gone to that private school up north that Kennedy had attended before the old Council pegged her as a potential.

Several potentials living up at the mansion were currently attending the same school, following an investment in it by the new Council that Andy had recommended, along with Dalton, a private school Miranda Priestly's daughters attended and another one in Connecticut. Though supported by Giles and the Council Advisory Board, it had been Andy's pet project, Buffy had learned, after asking Giles about a meeting with the Headmasters of those schools she'd seen on Andy's calendar the day before.

She briefly wondered who would take over that project. The Doc was positive that Andy would recover but that was still expected to take several months, long after this meeting.

"She'll see you now," Wendy said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Thanks," Buffy said, standing up and stepping over to the inner office door. Opening it she stepped in, and looked around. Other than a vase of fresh flowers and a briefcase open on a chair, the office didn't look any different than she'd last seen it.

"Ms. Warner," Buffy said, "thank you for getting here so quickly."

"Director Summers, you can call me Blair," the elegant blonde said, standing up to shake her hand, "I'm glad to help out while Andy recovers. It was definitely a shock."

"Buffy," Buffy said. "You know Andy personally?"

"She convinced the Council to invest in my old school, Eastland Academy," Blair said. "We'd briefly gone co-ed but that didn't work out. The Council saved it from closing. I'm taking a sabbatical from my position as legal counsel for Eastland until Andy recovers to return the favor."

"Oh. I'd heard that we'd invested in several private schools that slayers are attending, but not to that extent," Buffy said. She didn't say it, but she was also glad Blair seemed to be aware of what the Council truly was. One less person to read in on Council business made it that much easier.

"Eastland was a special case," Blair said. "Historically, the daughters of American Council families have attended it, since it first opened. We believe it's uniquely qualified to provide safe educational opportunities for members of the new Council."

"For which we're all grateful," Buffy said, before getting down to business. "Here's the paperwork for our agreement with the city and the Feds," Buffy said. "As requested, I haven't signed anything." 

"Good. Good," Blair said. "I'll look it over after our meeting with the Priestly's. Who will be attending that?" she asked, pulling out a small pad of paper.

"Myself, you, our NYPD detective, Ms. Priestly, her daughters, her lawyer, and several slayers," Buffy said. "We're expected at her house in approximately an hour."

"The slayers would be the bodyguards?" Blair asked. "They're well trained, I'm assuming, but do they know anything about being bodyguards?"

"We're bringing in one of the older slayers who used to be in the Secret Service, and she'll be in charge of the other two for this. One of them, Melissa, currently attends Dalton and is in the same classes as one of the twins, and the other, Alice, went to Eastland, before joining the city team, and is familiar with the environment."

"Good. I'd like to meet this detective before we head over there," Blair said. "Does he know what the Council does?" she asked, curious.

"The detective's with Alex," Buffy said. "They're doing a quick check of Andy's apartment. And no, she has no idea, though the Chief of Detectives knows exactly who we are. We're doing a show-n-tell tomorrow for her up at the mansion if you're interested in joining us."

"That could be interesting, if you don't mind one more," Blair said. "It's one thing learning about the Council while growing up and another to see the real thing."

"Plenty of room," Buffy said. "I'm assuming you've made arrangements for a place to stay?"

"Yes, I've got an apartment in the city," Blair said, looking towards her open door at the sound of approaching voices. "Jo?" she said loudly, clearly surprised at one of them.

"Blair? What are you doing here?" the detective asked, appearing in the doorway. If she hadn't been a slayer, Buffy suspected she wouldn't have heard the slight tremor in her voice.

"I'm helping out while Andy is in the hospital," Blair said. "What are you doing here?"

"Detective Polniaczek is our liaison with the city," Buffy said. The detective shrugged.

"You missed the last Eastland reunion," Blair said, standing.

"I was busy," Jo muttered.

"I'm sorry about the divorce," Blair said. "How is Jamie taking it?"

"That was a while ago," Jo said, shrugging. "She's okay about it. She spends weekends and holidays with Rick, when he's in town."

"Her spot is still open at Eastland," Blair said. "It's a great school, as you know."

"We aren't all rich, Princess," Jo said. "She's doing okay in school."

"You both went to Eastland?" Buffy said.

"Yes," Blair said.

"You've heard of the place?" Jo said in surprise.

"I haven't been there personally," Buffy said, "but I'm familiar with it. A couple of my agents went there."

"You remember a few years ago, when I turned Eastland co-ed?" Blair said.

"When the Headmaster ran off with the endowment and you wanted us all to pitch in and buy the place?" Jo said. "Yeah, I remember that."

"Eastland Academy, the all girls school, was unique. Eastland, the co-ed Prep school? Not so much," Blair said. "It got us another few years but it wasn't enough. The Council came in, and rescued us several years ago."

"The Council?" Jo turned to give Buffy a look.

"We're big with the education," Buffy said. "But that was all Andy's idea."

"My father is on the Council Advisory Board, and we've been a part of it for a very long time," Blair said. "Which helped. Also, a dozen current, and thirty past alumna have Council ties."

"Huh." Jo frowned. "Any ties to the Priestly's?" 

"No," Blair said, turning to Buffy who coughed to get her attention.

"We're racking up the coincidences on this one," Buffy told them. "The two of you went to the same private girls school, with Council ties."

"And college," Blair said.

"Really? I need to talk to my favorite researcher, she missed that. Or she's been holding out on me," Buffy said. "The Priestly twins go to another private school with Council ties."

"How many private schools do you own?" Jo asked.

"We don't 'own' any," Buffy said. "We have our own specialized training centers, one of which you'll see tomorrow, and we provide extra funding to several schools our girls attend, for reasons that aren't really relevant to what happened to Andy, though it was her idea. Eastland is the only one with a really close relationship with us."

"The Council is a big supporter of Eastland," Blair said. "We share several Board members."

"Your father?" Jo asked.

"Yes, including my father," Blair said.

"What other coincidences?" Jo asked Buffy.

Buffy looked at her watch. "I guess we have time for this. Your Chief only hinted at this, but my favorite researcher says she was briefly a Council trainee in the early seventies."

"Really?" Blair said. "It's not mentioned in any of Andy's paperwork."

"It wouldn't necessarily be, but my sister is working on an extensive family history of all Council trainees and active agents," Buffy said. "She claims that if you go back far enough they are all related. Which leads me to another coincidence, you Jo."

"Me?"

"Her?"

"Yes, her," Buffy said to Blair. "I had my sister do some digging in our records. Going back far enough, there are several Council trainees hanging from your family tree. And, you fit the profile, though, for some reason they missed you."

"I can see that," Blair said. "She's kind of like an older Faith Lehane, but more law abiding. Why didn't she get picked when the Council was recruiting several years ago?" Blair asked, using the standard public euphemism for Willow's slayer activation spell right before the Sunnydale collapse.

"Wouldn't have if they had," Jo said, bluntly. "Already have a full time job."

"The Boss Man says it's an age thing," Buffy said. "She's too old."

"I'm not old," Jo protested. "I'm just hitting my prime."

"Keep telling yourself that," Blair said, smirking at her. "Any other coincidences that we care about?" she asked Buffy.

"A certain fashion editor, whom we have an appointment with shortly, doesn't appear to have any family with Council connections. However, her daughters are the first generation of her family who have not attended a public school near London that had heavy ties to the Council. Sort of like Eastland, except British."

"Do you think there's a connection to what happened to Andy?" Blair asked.

"If we step back far enough," Buffy said. "It's obvious something Council related is going on. Not sure what yet. Might be a coincidence, if I believed in them."

"Do we know if any of the other victims have Council ties?" Jo asked.

"Not yet," Buffy said, taking out her phone and hitting her most used number. Pressing speaker phone she put it down on Andy's desk. "Dawn! Speaker phone," she said quickly, before her sister could say anything.

"Gee sis, a little warning would be nice," Dawn said. "Who's there with you?"

"Our new lawyer person, Blair Warner, and the detective," Buffy said. "Did you know they both went to the same school as Kennedy?"

"Maybe?" Dawn said, hesitantly. "Hey Ms. Warner, Detective." They can hear the faint clicking of keys in the background. "That's an interesting coincidence," Dawn said. "Class valedictorian, Detective. That's impressive. I think we should keep her, Buffy. Could use some more smart people around here."

"You know how Giles feels about recruiting," Buffy said.

"Yeah, yeah… 'It's a vocation, not job.' So what do you need?" Dawn asked.

"A little research project that's right up your alley," Buffy said. "Can you do some background on the other five victims?"

"Anything specific?" Dawn said. "To narrow it down."

"Council ties, of any sort. Family in the Council. Did they know someone in the Council. Did they once stand next to someone from the Council at a baseball game? That kind of thing," Buffy said.

"You don't asked for much, do you," Dawn said, grumbling. "What do I get if I do this?"

"A shopping trip?"

"That's more your thing," Dawn said. "What else?"

"You can meet Miranda Priestly," Buffy said.

"Weak! Was going to do that when she visits Andy anyway," Dawn said.

"The next time you go shopping, I'll send Vi with you," Buffy said. "For the day."

"And we have a winner," Dawn said, laughing.

"Thought you'd like that," Buffy said. "Oops. We need to get going. Email me what you find out."

"Okey-dokey," Dawn said happily, before hanging up.

"Isn't Vi that agent your sister has a crush on?" Blair asked.

"Possibly," Buffy said, laughing. "You've already heard the rumors."

"One of the other girls was teasing her last night, on our way to the Mansion with Andy's parents."

Jo shook her head. "Shouldn't we be going? You can gossip later, Princess."

* * *

Cassidy wasn't in a good mood, and she'd made sure to share it with her sister at lunch. She hadn't heard from Andy in almost two weeks, the longest she hadn't spoken with her mother's former assistant since reconnecting with her the year before, when she'd been a speaker at the annual Dalton Career Fair. Caroline, knowing what she wanted to do with her life since ninth grade, had skipped it.

Andy had talked about being a lawyer for a multinational NGO. Cassidy had hung around afterward and reintroduced herself. Andy was smart, really smart. Cassidy wasn't sure she really wanted to be a lawyer like her but Andy was the first person since her mother that had impressed her. She even suspected that she was verging on crush territory. Which was one of many reasons she'd kept her friendship with Andy a secret from her sister and mother.

She wasn't worried, not yet. But she'd looked up directions to Andy's office and planned to skip lunch tomorrow to go see her. She hadn't decided whether she was going alone yet. Caro hadn't been too happy the last time they got into trouble for skipping school. Especially when their mother had agreed with the creative punishment proposed by the Headmistress.

* * *

Caroline nervously followed the Office Aid into Headmistress Sage's office, wondering what trouble her sister had gotten into this time. She couldn't think of any other reason to be pulled out of class. She hadn't been directly involved in one of Cassidy's schemes since they were sophomores but the Headmistress always assumed guilt by association, and included her whenever she read Cassidy the riot act for some prank. Fortunately, their mother knew better and only punished the truly guilty.

She couldn't wait for college. She loved her twin, she really did, but her rebel phase was beyond old. She hoped to be far away when her mother found out about Cass's tattoo, an exotic looking design that Cass had yet to explain the meaning of.

Following the aid into the outer office, Caroline looked around for her sister, finding her glaring from the corner furthest away from Mrs. Peal, the Headmistress's secretary. In another chair sat one of the school chess team members, though she couldn't remember her name. She really hoped she wasn't a victim of whatever prank Cassidy had done.

The door to Sage's office opened before she could sit down.

"You can go in now, girls," Mrs. Peal said. 

Cassidy stood up and stomped into the Headmistress’s office. Shaking her head, Caroline reluctantly followed her. The other girl trailed them, and closed the door behind them.

Caroline noticed there were only two chairs in front of the headmistress's desk.

"Girls, take a seat," Headmistress Sage said. Before she could say anything else, Cassidy flopped down and glared at a fifth occupant of the room, that Caroline had missed until that moment.

"Where's Andy!" she demanded, pouting after getting no reaction from her target.

"Andy who?" Caroline asked, staring at her sister and then the blank faced woman.

"Mom's Andy," Cassidy said, giving Caroline, that look she used when she thought her twin was being stupid.

"Cassidy, Caroline!" Headmistress Sage said, in that voice that everyone listened to.

"Sorry, Headmistress," Caroline said.

Cassidy sighed and turned back to face forward. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Your mother has requested that you be sent home early," the headmistress said. "Your driver should be here shortly."

"Why?" Cassidy asked suspiciously. "And why are they here?"

"One of our trustees has arranged an escort for you," the headmistress said. "Melissa and Miss Alice will accompany you home."

"This is about Andy, isn't it!" Cassidy said, turning back to the woman in the corner, whom she'd recognized as one of Andy's assistants. "Something happened to her."

"Cass…" Caroline said, grabbing her arm.

Andy's assistant shook her head. "Andy's okay," she said, though Cassidy could see she didn't really believe it. "It will all be explained once we get you home."

* * *

Headmistress Sage watched them getting into the Priestly car from her office window. There were times when she wondered about the wisdom of forging closer ties with the Council. The Trustee position was certainly a small price to pay for the extra funds the Council provided. Dalton had been able to create a dozen more scholarships for worthy students with the money.


End file.
